


Petits Trésors

by Kestrealbird



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Background Lupin/Fujiko, Domestic Fluff, Lupin is highkey very sweet, Multi, Unrealistic prices probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 21:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Lupin keeps his promise and finally gets Jigen that French doll.(Set post Red Jacket episode 148)





	Petits Trésors

**Author's Note:**

> This is?? So sickly sweet?? End me actually?? I didn't plan on having another fic out so soon for this fandom but here I am :') I had to rewrite the beginning like five times before I was happy with lmao 
> 
> Fujiko was supposed to make, like, an actual appearance but I felt that she'd take away the moment between Lupin and Jigen so that's why she's only mentioned a few times. Sorry about that. The title is meant to be French for 'Tiny Treasures' but don't trust me on it

The doll in the window stares back at him, her eyes a brilliant blue beneath tight curls of golden hair. He’d stopped dead in his tracks when he’d seen her, almost slipping off the wall he’d been jogging on and into the river thames below. There’s nothing particularly outstanding about her; just a simple french doll dressed in pink with a handful of petticoats under her dress, and simple silk shoes on her feet.

A red carnation is pinned to the side of her head; vibrant colour a contrast against the paleness of her face. Light blush is painted on her cheeks with gentle, caring strokes and her lips are a faint glossy white. She’s only ten inches tall, and there’s nothing truly extravagant about her that would grab a thief’s attention. Lupin glances down at the price, smiling grimly at how cheap she is. Forty pounds for a doll that should be worth at least a hundred.

He feels sorry for the person who hand-crafted her, to be told their work is worth so little when such detail was put so lovingly into her design. Lupin leans in closer to the glass, eyes sparkling as he takes in the subtle swirls stitched in her dress. Whoever made her did so with shaking hands and a whole lot of love and care besides.

She’s nothing like the doll that Jigen would’ve seen at the fair as a kid. Lupin doesn't know a lot about Jigen’s past, but he does know that his friend was probably as poor as the fair he went to so many years ago. The one Jigen had seen as a prize was likely a french ragdoll of some kind, with no porcelain skin in sight or soft cotton and silk for the clothes. The one in the window, however, is beckoning him to buy her with every passing second.

Lupin _could_ steal her of course. The shop is small, with only a simple lock or two on the door for security. His pride won't let him stoop that low, though. He’s Lupin the Third, not some two-bit thief from the streets that picks pockets for a living and panics when they get caught.

Fujiko is going to have a field day if - _when_ \- she ever finds out about what he’s doing. It’d be payback for all the teasing Lupin gave her when he saw the cute samurai dog keyring she’d given Goemon to hang off his bag, but it’d be so _worth it_ to see Jigen’s face.

Mind made up, Lupin saunters into the shop with a grin, the doorbell jingling pleasantly behind him.

The inside of the shop - Petits Trésors, the faded sign outside had read - is about as cozy and quaint as Lupin had expected. It’d be a little claustrophobic for Fujiko but the warm fire behind the counter would help soothe her nerves. He could already imagine Goemon admiring all the stuffed animals as Jigen played around with the different music boxes.

Lupin only has a half second to glance around the shop when a wheezy voice from the back room calls out, “just a minute!”

There’s the sound of wooden chairs being knocked over, followed by a muttered, “stupid bloody thing.” It brings forth memories of Lupin’s late mother, when she used to hole herself up in the attic with her inventions and always forgot to move the box filled with old junk no matter how many times she stubbed her toe on it.

The owner of the shop, a short portly woman with glasses perched on the end of her nose and a cane in one hand, hobbles over to the desk, climbing up on a stool so she can look him in the eyes. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled back into a messy half bun, strands of hair falling in front of her dark green eyes. When she smiles, Lupin notes that two of her teeth are missing.

“Ever so sorry,” she says, pulling her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders, “we don't get many customers these days. Wasn’t expecting anyone to walk in so early on a Monday.”

Lupin appreciates the business quality of her voice and he rocks back on his heels, gleeful at the sight of her examining the expensive suit he wears. The old woman doesn't bother hiding the way she crosses her fingers, leaning a little over the counter, eager to get some money into her pockets. If he ended up buying the tin whistle for five pounds she’d be disappointed, but still happy enough to go buy herself some bread and soup for dinner.

Lupin points to the doll in the window. “She caught my eye as I was walking past and I thought she’d be a nice gift for one of my friends.”

The woman stiffens up, a teary eyed surprise on her face. _Ah_ , Lupin thinks, _it’s sentimental._ “Are you...quite sure you want that one? Surely a man of your fashion would be happier with a doll more suited to your riches?”

“Ah-yi-yi that’s rather blunt isn’t it?”

The woman shrugs. “At my age I have no reason to pussyfoot about with my intentions. Life’s too short for me, nowadays.” Her wistful sigh draws Lupin’s attention to the cheap, faded ring on her finger and the photo of two young women, arm in arm and laughing, on her desk. “My...partner,” she says, softly, “made that doll many years ago. A lot of people who come by here turn their noses up at her. She’s nothing compared to the ones made in factories, you know. I can’t imagine why you’d want to buy something with wonky seams and mismatched curls.”

Lupin’s eyes soften. He really is a romanticist isn't he?

“I don't know.” His smile, this time, is genuine and kind. “I think your partner put a lot of love and care into that doll. I’m an expert about this kind of thing you know! It's part of my job.” He waves his hands in a dramatic flourish, spinning so quickly he nearly stumbles. “You can't fool these eyes! That doll is perfect and is worth every pound!”

Before the woman can offer any protest, Lupin grabs the doll and places a wad of money on the counter. He winks, “keep the change,” and practically bounces out of the shop. One hundred and twenty sounds about right for this little doll.

(He pretends not to hear the relieved, watery laugh from behind him.)

Her mismatched curls bounce as he walks with her in his arms, and the wonky seams add more charm than they take away. The imperfections make her perfect for Jigen.

* * *

 

Lupin announces his presence back at their hotel room by kicking the door open and loudly proclaiming, “Jigen dear! I have a gift for you!”

Goemon looks up from his book and stifles a laugh behind his hand. Lupin has all but thrown himself onto Jigen’s stomach, and the gunman groans, evidently very rudely awoken from his nap. Jigen sits up just enough to rub the sleep from his eyes, his hat falling into his lap.

“What the fuck,” he mumbles.

Lupin impatiently thrusts a french doll into Jigen’s face, his body practically vibrating with excitement. Moments like this remind Goemon why Jigen sometimes wants to simultaneously strangle and hug Lupin in equal measure.  To his credit, Jigen doesn't let his surprise show, but Goemon has known him long enough to see the subtle shift in his body - the small jump his stomach makes and the careful swallow in his throat as he tamps down his emotions.

Jigen slowly takes the doll out of Lupin’s hands, hair covering his eyes so no-one can see the awe on his face. Stupid idiot actually kept his promise.

Lupin crosses his arms with a huff, sitting back on his heels. Neither he nor Jigen make a move to get him off the gunman’s lap. “Well? Aren't you going to say something?”

Jigen snatches up his hat, pulling it low over his face. He doesn't let go of the doll. “...thanks.”

Goemon isn’t surprised when Lupin teases Jigen for a kiss, and he’s even less surprised when Jigen finally shoves Lupin onto the floor. Lupin crawls over to Goemon’s lap, whining about being “unloved” and “can you believe the _audacity_ , Goemon!?”

Goemon doesn’t even bat an eye, but he does hold Lupin’s hands. To stop himself getting hit in the face on accident, of course. Definitely not for anything else. Jigen’s snicker implies otherwise. Goemon throws a book at him.

**Author's Note:**

> My mother is a woman in her fifties and she helped me come up with the design for the doll based on the ones she used to collect around this time period! So shout out to her for being really cool!
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/teatitty)


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